


ten minutes to midnight

by acceptnosubstitutes



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Family Issues, Gen, MAJOR spoilers for 4x06 "door number three", canon type violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acceptnosubstitutes/pseuds/acceptnosubstitutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can deal with the aftermath of family. The loss of trust, not always.”</p><p>Or, Hal seeks Dick out after nearly getting shot by the man, and ends up left questioning himself, instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ten minutes to midnight

**Author's Note:**

> The issue I have with Hal is not that he spoke up about some legitimate concerns regarding Lexi, but because he put the threat before the part about Lexi being his sister. It may not be a popular opinion, but it struck a nerve with me, so this happened.
> 
> Not actually what I planned to write from this episode, but it's what happened first.

2nd Mass lives through the night. Most of them do. But Lourdes’ safety zone was, once upon a time, clean, clearly lit with candles, whole. 

Now it’s a mess.

If it isn’t the bodies of skitters littering the ground, staining it red, the bodies of humans take their place. Some moaning, groaning, asking for help. Some not making any noise at all.

The candles are all snuffed out, now.

Hal steps outside, leaving behind his family - his brothers keeping to themselves in a corner of Lexi’s designated room, playing with an old board game; his father keeping silent vigil over Anne, who has yet to wake; Maggie asleep in their shared bed, and it makes him grin, that he can say that again; and, of course, Lexi herself, her features relaxed from the enraged grimace, her hands peacefully clasped across her stomach where she lays in a deep, exhausted slumber.

But his steps falter, when he sees _her_. Lourdes. 

She’s holding blankets in her hands, and he thinks maybe some of the wounded look like they shouldn’t be moved anytime soon, but are starting to shiver even though the air’s warm.

But Lourdes is standing stock still, facing him, her disinterested gaze sweeping around in stuttering stops. She looks up, catches Hal’s eyes, and he’s wrong, it’s not just disinterest.

It’s apathy.

Apathy - an ugly, _ugly_ , look across pretty Lourdes’ face, and her hands clench in the blankets she holds.

Hal wonders if she blames him, for the state of all that she built. All in ruins.

But she turns from him with a drawn in breath, and crouches near an old woman, offering her comfort.

Hal moves on.

He’s looking for someone. Doesn’t know his name, but hears from around that Anthony does.

“His name’s Dick,” Anthony says, gives Hal a wary stare. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you Hal?”

Everything’s so different, now, than it was even just a few weeks ago, if a man Hal considers a close friend looks at him with such distrust. But, then again, he has no idea what Anthony and Anne, the rest of them, went through the past half year, yet.

Not really had the opportunity to quiz anyone about how they’ve been.

Six months. That’s a long time. You get to know some people more, that time frame, and lose old connections just as quick.

But to keep up appearances, Hal shoves his hands in his pockets, laughs.

“Cool it. Calm down, man,” he has a smile plastered across his mouth he doesn’t really feel, “just wanna talk.”

Anthony doesn’t look like he believes him. But he does direct him, so it can’t all be different.

Hal finds his mark outside the camp, helping move skitter bodies to a location far, far downwind of Lourdes’ safety zone. For burning purposes.

Normally, no one would’ve bothered, because they never fought large scale battles where they bunked down before. Not ones that splattered the whole area in blood, grime and gore.

No one wants to test what Lexi might do if she sees so many dead aliens left lying around her broken city like trash.

Hal watches the process for a while. They’ve a pretty steady system going, between people who bit the bullet and agreed to drag alien carcasses out to others who stand by with wheelbarrows they found somewhere or another. But it’s a slow, slow process.

So it’s easy to wait for a break, wait for Dick to stop moving to catch his breath, and Hal clears his throat.

Hal’s not smiling, so to speak, when Dick turns around, but he at least hopes that slight wince he sees before his expression smooths out was because of the awkwardness between them.

And not because there’s still underlying hostility deep set in the dark circles under his eyes. Because, to be honest, it’s not aimed at Dick at all. Far from it.

But man, the way his face doesn’t give away anything he’s thinking, it’s like talking with Dai again and getting stonewalled. 

Hal very, _very_ carefully does not examine the present tense of his thoughts. Oh no, not at all.

Instead he focuses on the (quite alive) man before him and quirks an eyebrow.

“Nice to, ah, meet you,” he says, and could wince himself at the awkwardness of that, but continues, “well, nearly get shot. By you.”

That’s not much better. Actually, that’s _worse_.

The wince makes a reappearance, is gone just as fast, and Dick sighs.

“Sorry.”

Well, they can just move on to the actual meat of the issue now, right? Hal nods, rocks back and forth on his heels.

“I ask you something?”

Instant shield comes down, but Dick’s face barely twitches a muscle. Which is impressive, and when he’s actually gotten to know him, Hal really wants to ask him how he does it. Probably could deal with corralling his own emotions off his face too.

Get into a lot less trouble that way, probably.

It’s a lack of an answer, but it’s also not a no, so Hal smiles, briefly, and sort of means it, jerking his head to the side. Not really the sort of conversation he wants other people overhearing. 

They find what looks like the crumbling remains of an old bakery, if the sign in the window is to be believed, and sit down on the porch.

“So, tell me,” Hal says, “you looked ready to take on an army, last night.”

Refrains from mentioning that he eventually _did_ , anyway. Just not the expected one.

Hal turns his head to the side and pretends to be real interested in the eroding metal bars of the bakery’s railings.

“Were you? Ready, I mean.”

There’s a pause that stretches, just approaching the area of uncomfortable, when Dick finally does speak up.

“Yes.”

And that’s what Hal really wants to know about, the _why_. Because Dick makes it sound like a firm answer, like he didn’t doubt. At all.

“Haven’t heard about Lexi, she, my sister, her issues?”

“Heard of them. But she’s Anne’s daughter. Family, which is a good enough reason.”

And Hal wonders, good enough for Anne? Or good enough to defend someone beyond all reasonable measure?

“Just like that, that easy?”

It feels like a stupid question when Dick turns his head and scrutinizes him, like he doesn’t believe it’s actually in question in the first place.

“Family’s a funny thing,” he muses, looks like he could be seeing someone else, “You can hate them. Recognize their issues. But they’re family first.”

Hal doesn’t have a response to that. Dick looks away.

But he’s not finished.

“You can deal with the aftermath, of family, even if it’s a clusterfuck like last night was.”

Hal doesn’t suppress the amused snort, because “clusterfuck” is the perfect, is the _only_ , word for what went on yesterday.

“The loss of trust, not always.”

And Hal almost asks him what he means. Even almost forgets the reason (Lexi) he even sidled up to him in the first place. It sounds like, the way he talks, the accepted defeat of it all, that Dick might have just as interesting a story about family as Hal does now.

Right, so the poker face, and fucked up family shit. When Hal gets to know him.

But he doesn’t ask, and not because they don’t know each other.

Because he does get it, eventually. And it isn’t about blindly trusting, like he thought, about ignoring issues that should be dealt with because _family_. It’s important to stand up for your beliefs, Hal truly believes that, and even more important to stand up for family, up _to_ them when they have issues.

That’s not it.

It’s the putting the threat first. It’s the putting “she could be a danger to us all” before the “she’s my sister” and that’s the issue.

“Huh,” Hal says, mildly impressed, “thanks.”

Gets a quizzical side glance, a “For what?”

And there’s been enough heavy thinking for one day, surrounded as they are by a little too much death, family issues, and an uncertain future, for Hal to answer him honestly.

So he just grins. Finds he really _does_ mean it, this time.

“For almost shooting me.”

For protecting Lexi. Putting family first, even at the same time bracing for the worst. 

He can’t help being wary of Lexi. Can’t help he thinks of her, in her cocoon, and he shudders, needs to think of something else. Like Maggie and her soft hair, her soft skin, her brilliant smile.

Hal meant what he told his father last night. 2nd Mass is his family, too, and he will protect it. Even if it means from his own sister.

But she’s still his sister, first. And maybe, having been on the offensive for so long, planning and strategizing with Dingaan where to go, what they need to do to get everyone to safety, made Hal forget that.

But he gets it now. And maybe he needed that reminder.


End file.
